by C. A. Larmer
“So what about the rest of us?” asked Missy. “I want to go undercover too! I want to find some clues.” She rubbed her hands together gleefully, like she was discussing a game of Cluedo. “Why don’t we do like we did last time and all pick a suspect or a lead and follow it!”
Anders didn’t get a chance to pour cold water on that idea as the rest of the group was nodding their heads enthusiastically now.
“You guys need to get a life,” was all he could muster, smiling despite himself.
“I’m thinking,” continued Missy, “that I should try to have another chat with those two lovely ladies from the organising committee. They were happy enough to chat with me that night, so…”
“Great idea,” said Alicia. “Jackson found them in the old mews at the back of that park in Balmain, so try there first. In fact, if you go tomorrow, you’ll probably find them knitting scarves for refugees.”
“I’ll come with you if you like,” said Claire, her ears pricking up at the sound of industrious crafting.
Missy gave her two thumbs up.
“I could talk to that cute barman,” Lynette offered, and Perry sniggered.
“Isn’t he a little too young and lowly paid for your tastes?”
“I’m talking to him, not dating him, Perry!”
“No, he’s perfect,” said Alicia. “He’s clamped up big time, thanks to his lawyer, but I’m pretty sure Jackson said he works weekdays at the Top Shop in Balmain. You should drop by. I bet he’d be more open to chatting to a pretty young blonde than a couple of surly detectives.”
“Aw, thanks, sis,” she said, slapping Perry with a smirk.
Anders said, “You really think he’s going to tell Lynette everything over a cup of Joe? You’re going to have to slosh a lot of brandy in that cup to get him talking I would suggest.”
Lynette looked despondent suddenly. “True, and if it takes ages like it did that first case we solved, I’ll have to take extra time off work, and my boss will kill me. I’m not sure I’ve got the time or the budget for this.”
“Ah but I know a way you could get to know Brandon and get paid for it,” said Alicia, and Lynette smiled back at her.
She liked the sound of that.
Chapter 26
Lynette smiled to herself as she strolled towards the trendy Balmain eatery they called the Top Shop. It was Monday morning, just after the breakfast rush, a good time to chat with unsuspecting staff, and while she had been forced to beg Mario for another morning off, she was hoping it would be the last.
Alicia’s plan was ingenious—a win-win for everyone.
Mario’s Café was never open for dinner, so Alicia suggested Lynette get rostered onto Brandon’s evening bar staff. They had heard there was another film showing at the park that Saturday night—as far as they knew, it hadn’t been cancelled—and Alicia suspected it would be a good chance for her sister to get to know him better and be paid for the effort.
Lynette’s smile slipped a little. She just hoped Brandon was on duty today, as Alicia guessed he would be, and that she would recognise him again. She had only seen him briefly at the moonlight cinema’s Booze Bar, and that was now over a week ago, but as soon as she caught sight of a skinny bloke with a shock of black hair and tight black jeans, she felt her confidence return.
Well, hello Brandon Johnson!
After a few moments pretending to peruse the menu out the front, Lynette quickly deduced which tables he was working and then strolled nonchalantly towards an empty one in his section, dropping her handbag to the floor and settling into a seat.
“Can I get you a menu, or are you just after a coffee today?” he asked, grabbing a pad and a pen from his apron.
Lynette promptly ordered an espresso, then waited until he returned before launching in.
“Cool place you’ve got here,” she said as he placed the cup down. “D’you know if there are any jobs going at the moment?”
He stopped to look at her properly. Lynette was a good six or seven years older than him, but she was leggy and blond and he liked what he saw.
“Maybe.” His eyes squinted. “You look familiar. Been here before?”
She quickly nodded. “Yes! I come here all the time.”
It hadn’t occurred to Lynette that Brandon might remember her from the film night too, but for Alicia’s plan to succeed, it was important he did not.
“Jobs come up fairly regularly,” he was saying. “I can ask out the back for you if you like. You got experience?”
“Yeah, I work at Mario’s in Paddington, but to tell you the truth, what I’m really after is some bar work at night, to supplement my income. Pity you guys haven’t got a bar here.”
He glanced around. “Yeah, I keep telling them they should put one in. They’d clean up.” He looked back at her. “You good on the drinks?”
She nodded enthusiastically. The truth was she didn’t have a whole lot of experience pouring cocktails but enough to know it wasn’t exactly chemical engineering. As long as you had the right moves and a decent recipe, you could pull it off.
Luckily, he took the bait, glancing around again before leaning in closer.
“I know of some bar work if you’re keen. I run a team, working local festivals, PR events, that kind of thing. Lot of it’s evening work. You interested?”
She feigned surprise. “Wow, sure. Sounds perfect.”
He smiled broadly. “Then how about we forget Top Shop and I get you some bar work instead?”
“Even better. Got anything coming up soon?”
His eyes squinted again. “You’re really keen. What’s the rush?”
“Oh, just saving to go travelling.”
Then she flashed her sexiest smile. It worked. He smiled back, rubbing a hand through his black hair before pulling a mobile phone from his apron.
“Give me your digits, and I’ll give you a call if something crops up.”
As she tapped her number into his contact list, Lynette knew her sister would have a fit. Alicia was so old-fashioned about handing over personal information. But Lynette knew how things worked with youth today. The easier she made it for Brandon, the greater the chance he’d be in touch.
She smiled again as she handed his phone back. “Just look up L for Lynette,” she told him, just as a cranky-looking man with a Ned Kelly beard started closing in.
“L for ‘Lovely Lady,’” he said with a sly grin before turning away.
*********
While Lynette was flirting with the young barman, Missy and Claire were unloading a cardboard box and making their way into the Balmain Women’s Auxiliary clubhouse back at the Dame Nellie Johnson Park. Like the younger Finlay, they also had an ingenious plan.
“I’ve had all this out the back for ages,” Claire explained to Missy soon after she met her at the little shop she owned in the city. “Odd reels of cotton, jars of buttons, several quilting sets, lots of wool and fabric, that kind of stuff.”
“Sounds like a treasure trove,” said Missy. “And you don’t want to keep it for yourself, possum? Use it for your own creations?”
Claire sighed. “That was the idea, but I’ve barely opened the box in years. Now it’s just getting in the way. It’s time to find it a better home, and who better than a group of ladies doing their bit for the needy?”
Missy couldn’t agree more, and neither could the aforementioned ladies who all gathered around when Claire produced the box and began rummaging through, uttering cries of delight.
“Very decent of you,” said one woman. “We struggle to get donations like this anymore and certainly not from young lasses like yourselves. Nobody has time for sewing and crafts these days.”
“The truth is it all belonged to my grandmother,” said Claire. “She’d be thrilled to see you ladies do something positive with it.”
“Oh we’ll certainly do that, dear,” said another woman.
As they talked, Missy was scanning the room for the two women from the film night. She coul
dn’t see them and was trying to mask her disappointment when she heard a sudden burst of laughter coming from near the back of the hall. She guessed there was a kitchen out there.
“Do you mind if I get a drink of water while I’m here?”
“Of course, dear,” one woman said. “Just head out the back.”
“Grab a scone while you’re at it,” someone else added. “Flo will see you right.”
Claire caught Missy’s eye and smiled. “I might grab one too, if that’s all right?”
They waved the younger women away, keen to keep rifling through their treasure, so Claire and Missy clattered across the wooden floorboards towards the sound of laughter.
When they entered the kitchen, they spotted Florence Underwood first. She had a scone in one hand and a large mug in the other and was regaling several women with a story so hilarious at least one of them looked like she was choking.
“Don’t let us interrupt,” Claire said when they looked around. “We were just going to grab a cup of tea.”
“Oh, here, love,” gulped one of the ladies, “have some of ours.”
She pushed a chipped teapot across the old wooden table towards them.
The other was reaching down behind her to a cupboard full of mismatched crockery, while Flo was staring at them, her eyes narrowing.
“Haven’t I seen you girls somewhere before?”
Missy stepped towards her. “Yes! Oh you’ve got such an amazing memory! You’re right. We met at the film the other night. The night that poor lady…”
She let that dangle, and Flo’s eyes widened.
“Of course, yes. I’d recognise that lovely shade of pink anywhere.”
As she said it, the other women wedged their lips shut and looked away. “Lovely” was not an adjective they would have used.
Flo continued, “You were part of that sweet club, weren’t you? Now, what was it? Don’t tell me. I must exercise my brain cells, ward off the dementia.”
She placed two bony fingers to her brow.
“Film appreciation club?” suggested one of her friends.
“No, no, that’s not quite right. Ah! A book club, the Agatha Christie Book Club!”
Claire said, “You really do have a great memory.”
She poured herself and Missy a cup and then indicated some spare chairs at the table. “Do you mind if we…?”
“Not at all, dear. Help yourselves. So what brings you here?”
“Oh we had some sewing supplies we wanted to donate,” she said, reciting the line they had prepared. “We figured after the tragedy at film night you might need all the help you can get.”
“Yes, yes, terrible business. And how have you all been since that dreadful night?”
Before they had a chance to answer, the other women were sharing a look and getting to their feet. “We’ll leave you to it, ladies. Better get back to work.”
After they had rinsed their cups and left the kitchen, Flo sighed.
“I think they’re all a little tired of the brouhaha over that night. It’s been very trying on us all. The press has been bothering us mercilessly, trying to get comments. And we’ve had a few customers demanding their money back. One woman’s even threatening to sue, would you believe? For mental stress or some such nonsense!”
“That’s terrible,” Missy said.
“It’s shameful is what it is. It was hardly our fault now was it? It’s not like we planned it or could have predicted it. And it was a murder mystery they came to watch, not Bambi! Although… now I think about it, there was a death in that movie too, wasn’t there.” She sighed again. “Thank goodness we’re showing Grease at the next film night. That shouldn’t give anyone too many evil ideas.”
“Except a few frisky teenagers perhaps,” said Claire, remembering a few wild characters from the story, but Missy’s eyes were now wide.
She had just one character in mind now—Sandy Olsson—and was getting an idea of her own. She quickly pushed the thought away and tuned back in.
“Well, if we get sued, we’re done for,” Flo was saying. “The coffers will be emptied and our good work will be kaput. Dreadful business! It’s not like we ran the night to make a profit. It’s all going back to the maintenance of the park and to the little kiddies in refugee camps. Shameful, I tell you!”
Claire reached a hand across to the older woman. “I’m so sorry. People can be thoughtless.”
“And cruel,” added Missy. “So it was this group, here, who organised the film night, was it?”
Flo nodded. “It was Alice Smith’s idea, actually, and the rest of us chipped in here and there. We do our bit. My friend Ronnie—you met her the other night too, I believe? Well Ronnie and I were on bar duty. Not actually selling beers, mind you. Nobody wants to buy booze from little old ladies!” She cackled suddenly. “We got ourselves some spring chickens who look the part—very handsome bunch. We just helped organise that part, that’s all.”
“So that’s why you were seated so far back, near the bar?” said Missy.
“We wanted to keep an eye on proceedings, yes. I know Alice has a soft spot for young Brandon—he’s the lad we hired to run the bar, see? But well…”
She shoved a piece of scone in her mouth and darted her eyes to the ceiling.
Claire and Missy shared a look, and then Missy said, “Bit dodgy is he?”
Flo finished eating, then said, “I wouldn’t go that far, my dear. Lovely lad, really. It’s just that, well, he has a few issues, that’s all. And who wouldn’t after everything that’s happened to the poor lad.”
“Happened? You mean at film night?”
“No, no, to his beloved mum.” She pulled the teapot forward and inspected the contents. “She passed, you see, and so brutally, just a year or so back. He took it very badly, as you would. So Alice is… well, we all are really, keeping an eye out for the lad. His grandmother, Bette, used to be president of the Auxiliary many years ago, and we know she’d appreciate it.”
“So what happened to his mother?” Claire asked, trying to keep her tone placid when all she could think was, So Brandon’s mum died brutally—that’s a coincidence!
She wondered now if the woman had also been strangled.
“Car crash, dear. Absolutely devastating. Really shook the poor lad up.”
“Oh.” Claire had to stop herself from adding, “Drats!”
“What happened?” asked Missy.
“Dreadful business. Poor Dana, she was simply crossing the street, minding her own beeswax, as you do, and the young woman came out of nowhere. Slammed into her on the pedestrian crossing. Cleaned her right up.”
Claire’s ears pricked up again. “A young woman, really? Who was she? Do they know? Did they catch her?”
“I don’t know about any of that, dear, although they must have nabbed her because I heard she was drunk as a skunk. Terrible business, that. It really messed with young Brandon.”
“Was Brandon also hit?”
“Oh no, he barely had a scratch, but it must have been hard, watching his mother… Well.” She pursed her lips shut again. Then she tut-tutted. “Everybody struggles to deal with things mentally these days, don’t you find? I suppose it would be very hard to see your beloved mum pass away right there in front of your eyes, knowing there’s nothing you can do to help. It’s no wonder he’s struggled a bit since. That’s why Alice gives him the work. I’m just not sure he’s the right…”
She stopped midsentence again and pushed herself up from the table.
“That’s enough of my gasbagging, boring you young ladies senseless.”
“Oh, no, we don’t mind,” said Missy quickly, but Flo was already rinsing her cup at the sink.
“Just be sure to clean up when you’re done if that’s all right. We run a tight ship here; everybody pulls their weight.”
Then she departed, leaving the two book club friends staring at each other jubilantly.
“Did we just uncover a motive for Kat Mumford’s murde
r?” said Claire. “Do you think Kat might have had something to do with that car accident?”
Missy was bobbing her head like a bright pink yo-yo. “Yes! Oh my gosh, yes!” Then she lowered her voice as Claire held a finger to her lips. “Sorry, but wow! This could be it. Flo did say a young woman was driving. A young drunk. What if that was Kat?”
“Do you think Brandon recognised her on Saturday night and took his revenge?”
Missy didn’t dare to nod now, almost couldn’t speak. She grabbed Claire’s cup and began cleaning up. Then she swung around to face her friend.
“We need to get Jackson to check the police report. Find out who the young drunk was that wiped out Brandon’s mum. See if her name doesn’t rhyme with rat!”
*********
Alicia wondered how soon she could put Missy and Claire’s excitable request to her detective boyfriend.
It was now eight thirty on Monday night. Lynette was out with some girlfriends, and she was currently entwined in Jackson’s arms on her living room couch, watching the Ustinov version of Evil Under the Sun. They were having such a lovely evening, she was worried about ruining things. Would he be thrilled by their discovery or annoyed?
Jackson had appeared on her doorstep an hour earlier with some takeaway Chinese and the DVD, declaring, “Okay, let’s see what all the fuss is about.”
The truth was he wanted to get a better idea of the timeline.
“Witnesses keep referring to scenes in the movie rather than actual times of events that night,” he told Alicia as he placed the disc in the set. “I’m trying to get my head around it.”
He produced a stopwatch, a pad and a pen. Then, as he slipped off his shoes and settled on the sofa, she grabbed bowls and cutlery and placed them on the coffee table in front.
As Jackson pressed Play, he said, “Okay, so I recall the film officially started at eight fifteen because that’s just as I got my first text about the overdose.” He jotted something on his pad. “I know the Mumfords showed up a good ten, fifteen minutes after that, and I left ten minutes after that.” He jotted something else down. “So be sure to tell me when the intermission hit. That’s the time I want to lock in. I need to work out who saw what when.”
